Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Leap of Faith

I realize that the two weeks spent between my first OB appointment, complete with pelvic "how dee do" and the next appointment which featured a visit with Senor Doppler, required something that I was not ready for, but will prove to serve me well. A giant leap of faith. I have not seen (via ultrasound) a heartbeat since the first day of December, and other than the doctor's digitally-inspired assurances, for exactly four weeks I have had little to go on that I am in fact still healthily pregnant.

I didn't mean for this post to become suspenseful. I am still healthily pregnant. As of last Friday, anyway, which frankly starts to feel like last year! (I couldn't resist. Blame it on the hormones.)

I'll get back to that, but what I've learned in the meantime is that there is a window of time between resting in the confident hands of the RE (and his magic wand) and starting to feel a baby inside you, where a woman must go on faith. I have not had inordinate amounts of morning sickness. Not even ordinate amounts of morning sickness. I'm tired, but who among us isn't after Joy to the World meets Auld Lang Syne? My pants still fit, goddamnit! I know it's a condition many women in their 11th week (12th?) long for. (I'm tall, what can I say.) But it is also extremely unsettling. I have nothing to go on. Just blind faith.

So, I sit in bed at night, palpitating my lower abdomen, trying to feel if anything is coming "over the hedge," like, I dunno, a rogue uterus with a rapidly growing alien life form. Or baby. Some nights I can feel it. Some nights I realize just how badly I need a bikini wax.

Enter the Doppler. The nurse found the heartbeat right away. It is simply amazing how the gentle, but rapid, whoosh-whoosh can stir your heart and melt away the anxiety. Until she tells you she's counting the heart rate. And your heart catches in your throat, because of course that's another number, and like any number, it could be grieviously low, and the whoosh-whoosh that moments ago caused a rush of warmth to your extremities, could now spell doom.

It was fine. My doctor came in and seemed even more relieved than I was, which sat awkwardly with me. Was he worried? I guess he was. Glad I didn't sense that two weeks earlier. He said something to the effect of "So, now you can go public." To which I replied "Too late." I think I hurt his feelings.

And now begin the four-week waits between visits. What I am hoping for, though, is that if I wash and dry my jeans on super high heat, they will no longer fit me, which should tide me over until I can start to feel something dramatic (and more pronounced than gas, which I always have, pregnant or not) in said lower abdomen region. This plan will not work if I continue to wear sweatpants. And so far, there is every indication that I will.

I'm not that good at faith. But, I'm learning.


At the end of November, a friend of mine revealed that she was six weeks pregnant. It was an internet disclosure, as we only infrequently speak on the phone and see each other even less (she living in Boston, and I not so much). She has one son who is just over a year old, and his was her first (and a very easy) pregnancy. I did not tell her of my current status, as my husband's family had not yet been told, so I wanted to wait.

I remember as I read her email, thinking what we all (on this side of loss) think. Something ominous, that I quickly pushed out of my head and have chastised myself for since.

Last week she wrote to say that they had lost the pregnancy. I was and am very sad for her and reached out as best I could (both by phone and email) to give her support and try to be someone that could understand what she was going through.

But I am ashamed to say that I had a moment of...what is it..."I told you so?"...even though I had never told her so. I'm wondering if any of you out there have found yourself playing host to similar unwelcome thoughts and feelings when hearing of another person's loss. I cannot even put it into words, and what I felt was not my overriding reaction, nor maybe even my first conscious thought. But it was there all the same. Maybe it was as simple as "welcome to the club," and though I would never mean that in a malicious way, perhaps it's just not a nice thought no matter what.


At 10:56 AM, Blogger DD said...

Casey, this just happened to me last night. I have a very dear friend who did one IVF and had a very sweet boy. They knew that a 2nd IVF would be required for another baby, which they did, and of course she got pregnant. She called me after her six week scan to tell me there are having twins. I was so jealous and angry that it could be so "easy" for them and then she told me that the one twin is far behind and they may lose it. I felt like shit, but I always felt like...god, I don't even know how to describe now she finally can understand what a loss is like. I couldn't even tell my husband because it hurt to think I even had such terrible thoughts come into my head.

At 7:40 PM, Blogger theoneliner said...

YES! And i felt like sucj a jack a$$.. i mean whi thinks such mean thoughts.
I had a friend who m/c tired for a year more and finally got PG again..and she said "that she knows this one is going to stick" and I thought...yeah right. OMG I am awful. But, I think her smugness offended me for some unknown reason. Maybe I was secretly jealous. She did m/c.

I think the point of all you can't help your feelings. You can help what you do about them...but not having htem. Feelings are the opposite of rational thought...right? So of course they don't make sense, and they don't mean we're awful people.

i'm glad you bean is doing GREAT. Faith is a very difficult adventure indeed. But a worthwhile journey.

At 7:42 PM, Blogger theoneliner said...

holy spelling mistakes. i can spell, i swear...i'm just not so good at typing and proofreading.

misspellers of the world untie!!


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